


Appendicitis

by StarlitSnowflakes



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Based on a True Story, Fluff, Gen, Hospital, M/M, Multi, Other, sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:43:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7373197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlitSnowflakes/pseuds/StarlitSnowflakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras has appendicitis. Grantaire is "stuck" taking care of him. The hospital sucks ass.</p>
<p>Also this was originally supposed to be around 1,000 words tops. Oops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appendicitis

“Does anybody know where Enjolras is?” 

“No, but for once, I can’t wait for him to show up.”

Combeferre sighed. 

“Please, Grantaire, you’re really not helping.”

“What? It’s not my fault Apollo’s late. I just want to rub it in his face that I’m here before him for once, what’s wrong with that?” 

 

Three hours later.

 

Enjolras groaned as he heard a knock on the door. He was lying on the couch, where he had been for the last… he did a quick count in his head. Thursday night, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, today. Looking at the clock, he amended that. Thursday night, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, yesterday, about twenty minutes of today. So he was one hour and forty minutes short of five days. 

In all that time, he’d left the comfort of his couch once – to call Combeferre on Saturday to bring him “something, anything to drink”, because he was pretty sure he was about to die of dehydration. When he heard his best friend showed up, Enjolras was already waiting at the door, which he shut as soon as he grabbed the blue Gatorade with a quick “thanks”. As soon as he was back on the couch, he made a face at the drink. He hated Gatorade. 

He drank the whole thing in about sixteen seconds flat. 

There was that knock again. Seriously, who knocks on someone’s door after midnight on a Monday evening/Tuesday morning? 

“Enjolras, you in there?”

Grantaire. Grantaire knocks on someone’s door after midnight on Tuesday morning. He should’ve figured. 

“Go ‘way.” The blond managed to croak out. 

“No, I don’t think I will. Enjolras, are you alright? No one’s seen or heard from you in days. Well, except for Combeferre, who said you asked him to bring you something to drink, for whatever reason, but you didn’t even stop to talk to him and now he’s practically panicking.” 

Grantaire tried the door and, upon finding it unlocked, decided to go inside. Enjolras was not pleased. 

“So, if he’s so worried, why are you the one breaking into my flat and harassing me in the middle of the night?”

“First of all, I didn’t break in. The door was unlocked. Second, we’re all worried about you. You missed a meeting today; you never miss the meetings. And I’m here because I’m the only one who doesn’t have to work tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? That’s it? Mr. I-can-never-shut-up-listen-to-my-eloquent-babbling has nothing better to say than ‘oh’?”

“You said ‘we’.”

“What?”

Enjolras gestured vaguely with his hand.

“You” he pointed at Grantaire “said ‘we’. ‘We are worried’.” 

Now it was Grantaire’s turn to respond with nothing better than “oh”. Then, “well, yeah. But… I mean… Never mind. You still didn’t answer my question.” 

“What question?” 

“Are you alright?” 

“Oh. Yes, I’m fine.” As he spoke, Enjolras grimaced at the sharp pain shooting through his abdomen. 

“Liar.” 

It was a testament to how shitty he was really feeling that Enjolras didn’t even bother arguing. 

“Seriously, though, what’s wrong?” 

The blond shrugged.

“You, uh, you want me to call Ferre, or Courf maybe?” 

He shook his head.

“Look, Enj, you’re gonna have to work with me here. I’m not a mind-reader.”

“Hurts.” Enjolras muttered so quietly that Grantaire barely heard him.

“Okay, good. That’s progress. What hurts?”

“M’ stomach.” 

“When was the last time you ate?” 

“Thursday.” 

“And how long has your stomach been hurting?”

“Grantaire, I’m fine. It’s just a stomach ache.” 

“How long, Enjolras?”

“…I went to bed on Thursday night, perfectly fine, I might add, and woke up at around two in the morning from the pain.” 

“Five days? Christ, Enjolras! And you didn’t think to, oh I don’t know, go see a fucking doctor?” 

“It’s just a stomach ache, R.” The blond protested weakly, but Grantaire shook his head. 

“I’m calling Joly.” 

“Please don’t.” Grantaire already had his phone in hand, and was dialing the number.

“Too late, Apollo. No, sorry Joly, I was talking to Enjolras. Yeah, I found him at home. The idiot is sick and didn’t tell anyone. What? Oh, he says it’s just a stomach ache, except he’s had it for five days. And he can barely walk. I know, that’s what I was wondering! Oh, shit, really? Yeah, no, I got it. Thanks.” 

He hung up. Without saying a word, Grantaire started moving around Enjolras’ place, muttering to himself about “stupid blonds with no sense of self-preservation.” Said blond was mostly confused and more than a bit shocked. He was still trying to wrap his brain around the fact that Grantaire was in his home, and actually seemed to be concerned for his health. That was an entirely new side of the cynic. Sure, Enjolras considered Grantaire a friend, for the most part, but he didn’t think the artist actually cared about him. Ninety percent of their conversations consisted entirely of arguing and yelling about politics. The thought of Grantaire actually worrying about him gave Enjolras a weird, warm-and-fuzzy feeling that he was not entirely sure what to make of, and definitely not ready to deal with. 

“What are you doing?” He finally asked.

“I’m looking for your damn coat. You know, for someone as OCD as you are, it’s freaking impossible to find anything around here.”

“’M not OCD. And you can’t find my coat because I don’t have one.”

“Of fucking course you don’t. Why doesn’t that even surprise me? Oh, yeah, that would be because you have absolutely no regard for your own health!” By the time Grantaire finished, he was shouting. Enjolras winced, hoping the neighbors didn’t wake up. 

“I have more important concerns. And why were you looking for a coat anyway?” 

“Because, Apollo, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“What?! No. No you aren’t.”

“Yes. Yes I am. Doctor’s orders.”

“Joly’s still in med school. He’s not technically a doctor yet.”

“Eh, same difference. Either way, you are going to the hospital, even if I have to carry you my damn self.” 

“It’s the middle of the night!”

“Good thing the emergency room never closes, then.” 

“You can’t take me against my will!” Oh, God. Enjolras thought. That sounded so much better in my head. “I mean, er…that’s not…I…”

Grantaire snorted, chuckling under his breath.

“Relax, Apollo. You have nothing to worry about; I haven’t even taken you out to dinner yet.”

“Oh, ha ha.” 

“Look, either you get up and let me take you to the ER, or I will call an ambulance.”

“Fine. You win.”

That’s a first. Grantaire thought. He must be really sick. 

Enjolras tried to get up, but didn’t quite make it through the pain. Grantaire was across the room and by his side in an instant. 

“You okay to stand, Apollo?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? You might have to carry me after all.” 

“I already told you: I will if I have to.” 

Luckily, it didn’t come to that. With more than a bit of help, Enjolras was able to stand up and put on a red hoodie. He even managed to throw on a pair of old Converse sneakers, but Grantaire had to tie them for him. To his credit, the artist did it all without protesting or teasing the blond, like Enjolras thought he would. It took about twenty minutes for Enjolras to hobble down to the car, but the drive to the hospital didn’t last more than ten. Then it was another forty-five minutes to get checked in and wait for a nurse. 

After various blood tests, peeing in a cup twice, and having three X-rays done, the nurse finally announced that Enjolras would need a cat-scan. At this point, it was about one-thirty in the morning. He was tired and cranky and just wanted to just say ‘screw the test’ and go home. During all this, Grantaire never left his side, for which he was immensely grateful. Even if he could never bring himself to voice his gratitude. 

Grantaire, it turned out, was just as frustrated. Only for entirely different reasons; he was royally pissed at the hospital. It was the Emergency Room. It shouldn’t take half an hour for service; what if Enjolras’ condition was a matter of life or death? He doubted that it actually was, but still. It’s the principle of the matter. Also, how hard can it be to figure out the cause of a stomach ache? They’d tried more tests than Grantaire cared to count, and still had no clue what was causing his friend’s pain. Stupid, incompetent staff. Medical professionals indeed. 

Relax. He told himself. Enjolras was in a hospital, yes, but he was alive, he was going to be okay, he had to be okay. He’s Enjolras. 

Grantaire thought back to the meeting that afternoon. 

*****

As much as he joked around, he really missed Enjolras. He told himself that it was because he missed arguing with the blond, but that was a lie. He missed Enjolras. He missed watching his friend’s face light up when he gave a speech, he missed watching his eyes crinkle as he smiled, he missed getting to spend hours just watching the man he loved do what he loved, even if it had only been a few days since he’d seen him. And Grantaire immediately scolded himself for feeling that way. Even if he had the courage to tell Enjolras how he felt, there was no way his feelings were reciprocated. At best, Enjolras considered him a tentative friend. At worst…well…it wouldn’t be surprising if Enjolras couldn’t stand him. After all, they argue every single time they see each other.

Grantaire tried to pay attention at meetings, really. It was just so hard. Enjolras was so…distracting. He could never focus much on the man’s words for watching the man himself. Now, though, with the object of his desire gone, he found it absolutely impossible to focus. He felt bad. He wanted to listen to Combeferre, who was conducting the meeting tonight, but he just couldn’t stop worrying about Enjolras. 

So when, after the meeting, Courfeyrac suggested that someone go over to Enjolras’ flat to check on him, Grantaire volunteered all too readily. When he arrived at the flat and actually spoke to Enjolras, he could have cried with relief. But he didn’t. He played the responsible adult (because of course Enjolras didn’t go see a doctor), and got his friend safely to the hospital, worry gnawing at his gut the entire time. 

*****

He was so focused on his thoughts, he didn’t notice that the nurse had come and gone with Enjolras, and that the scan was complete, until she came back in with the results. 

Neither man had said anything to each other since they got into the car. It was the longest they had ever gone without fighting, let alone been silent around each other. Enjolras smiled bitterly to himself. He wished he could talk to Grantaire, break the silence and, for lack of a better word, chat, without fighting. Grantaire was just so infuriating. It was almost like he did it on purpose…actually, Enjolras figured it was deliberate. Something he had done the day they met caused Grantaire to hate him. He wished he knew what, so he could apologize and try to make things right. 

“So” the nurse started “good news and bad news. Which do you want first?” 

“The good news.” Enjolras muttered at the same time Grantaire said “The bad news.”

“Um, okay. Well, dear, the bad news is that you have appendicitis. The good news is that we can fix it.”

“He has what now?”

“Appendicitis. The appendix has filled with toxins, which…”

“No, I know what appendicitis is, it’s just…Isn’t that dangerous? Like, really dangerous?” 

“It can be, if not treated properly.” 

“What’s the treatment for it?” Enjolras finally asked.

“Let’s see, you’ve had symptoms for what, five days now?” He nodded his assent to the nurse. “I’m surprised, usually after a couple days, the organ will rupture…”

“The treatment?” Grantaire asked impatiently.

“Ah, yes. Well, there’s nothing for it, especially since you’ve had it for so long. This is an emergency case. We’ll have to remove your appendix as soon as possible. I’ve talked to the doctor, and you’re scheduled for surgery first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow? You just said it’s an emergency. Can’t he do it tonight?”

“He can, but he won’t. The doctor is at home right now. Surgery tonight would require him to drive over here, as well as do all the prep work. It’s more convenient to wait until tomorrow.”

“More convenient?!” Grantaire practically shouted, but the nurse was already gone. 

Enjolras had gone pale. Surgery. They were going to remove one of his internal organs. 

“Hey, you alright?” 

“Wha—oh. Yeah, I’m good.”

Before Grantaire could respond, someone knocked on the door. Courfeyrac and Combeferre entered the room. 

“There’s our fearless leader!” Courf exclaimed. “How are we feeling?”

“Like death itself.”

“Ugh, well, as much as that sucks, we’re gonna have to keep it fast. The nurse said we have about six minutes.” 

Before he could continue his rant, Combeferre interrupted him. 

“We’re just here to make sure you’re okay, Enjolras. Everyone’s worried about you.”

The blonde smiled weakly.

“Thank you, guys.” He said.

“AND” Courf said “we brought you a present.”

“No. Courfeyrac brought you a present. Don’t pin this on me.”

“Either way, I appreciate it.”

Courfeyrac shoved a Halloween-themed gift bag into his hands. 

“Go on, open it.”

He did, and a blush immediately covered his entire body. 

“Well, Apollo?” Grantaire asked. “What is it?” 

He took the bag, and immediately started laughing. It was a copy of Magic Mike on DVD. 

“Something to make you feel better, E.” Courf winked, before the nurse came in. 

“Alright, guys. Time to go.”

“Welp. That’s our cue. Get better Enjolras, and Grantaire, be sure to text us at least every five minutes.”

“Will do, Courf.”

“Feel better, mon ami.” ‘Ferre said simply. 

“Thanks guys.” Enjolras smiled thinly at his friends.

He and Grantaire were alone once again.

“So,” R said at last. “are you sure you’re okay with all of this.”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“You sure, Apollo? You seem nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.” Enjolras snapped. 

“Yup. Cool as a cucumber you are, E. I’m seeing it now.” 

No response at first, then…

“Okay, fine. I’m nervous. But can you blame me? They’re removing one of my freaking organs.”

“I understand how you feel, but it’s not that bad, I promise.”

“Have you ever had surgery before?”

“Mhm. Tonsils, third grade.”

“Was it bad?”

“Nah. Mostly it’s just one big excuse to eat ice cream.”

A pause.

“Grantaire?”

“Yeah, Apollo?”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Just try to get some sleep, if you can.”

“Mkay. Night, R.”

“Good night, Apollo.”

*****

Neither man slept much that night. Enjolras was in too much pain, and Grantaire was too busy worrying about Enjolras. Morning came far too late and far too early simultaneously. Before either one knew it, Enjolras was being wheeled into the operating room.

Until the hospital lights went out. The back-up generator kicked in quickly, and they were back on within moments, but it was enough. They couldn’t perform Enjolras’ surgery, in case of another power outage. It turned out they had to wheel him to another hospital about an hour away for the surgery, delaying it even further. Grantaire became even more stressed as he held Enjolras’ hand during the ambulance ride. 

The original surgery was scheduled for six that morning. At around eleven, Enjolras was finally going in. 

“Wait!” Grantaire yelled at the nurse. She stopped. “Do you get car sick, Apollo?”

“What?! R, I’m about to go in for surgery, now is hardly the time for—“

“Yes or no? Trust me on this.”

“Okay fine, yes, but I fail to see why that’s relevant at the moment.”

Grantaire turned to the nurse.

“Before they put him under the anesthesia, give him one of those ear-patches so he doesn’t throw up.” She nodded. “Good luck, Apollo. You’ll be fine, and I’ll be right here when you get up.”

The next thing Enjolras knew, the nurse put what looked like a little bandage behind his ear, and he was on the table on the operating room. 

“Okay” the doctor said “This will be a piece of cake. Just count backwards from ten, and by the time you reach zero, you’ll be asleep.”

Enjolras didn’t get to seven before he blacked out. 

*****

When he woke up, he was immediately aware of extreme nausea. The next couple hours or so were spent with Enjolras alternating between dry-heaving into a bucket and internally cursing out the nurses in his head. He could see them all whispering to each other and pointing at him. He didn’t want their pity. He wanted them to do something about his misery. Eventually, he fell back asleep. 

That time, he woke up in a much more comfortable bed, with a TV mounted on the wall in front of him, playing _wait was that the cooking channel _, and Grantaire in a chair next to him. The cynic turned towards him, and his face lit up with a smile.__

“Apollo, you’re awake! How are you feeling?”

“Awful.” He managed to croak out. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I threw up. A lot. And now my abdomen feels like I’ve been run over with a truck.”

“You threw up? Didn’t they give you a patch?”

“Yeah. It didn’t help.” 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” 

“’S not your fault.”

“Still, empathy.” 

Enjolras smiled weakly. At least it was over. Yeah, so he couldn’t go back to work for a few weeks, but that was okay. He’d never have to go through that again. Although, thanks to Grantaire, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. Speaking of which…

“Grantaire.”

“Yeah, Apollo.” 

“I love you.”

Grantaire froze, before laughing weakly. It sounded forced, even to his own ears.

“No you don’t. You’re high on drugs at the moment.”

“No. I mean, yes. I am. On drugs. Well, not _on drugs _, but... That’s not why I said it. You’ve been here for me, through all of this, and I really appreciate it because I’m sure I’ve been a pain in the ass. I’m rambling. But I have a point, I swear. This” he waved his arm vaguely “situation, made me realize it. I love you, R. You take care of me. You make me better, even when we’re arguing. No. Especially when we’re arguing. You make me better, and you make me feel better and if you don’t feel the same, I understand. I just needed to tell you.”__

“Enjolras, I swear, if this is some sick joke…”

“No. Not a joke. I mean every word. Meant. I don’t fucking know. It’s true.”

Grantaire was stunned. It took him a few minutes to formulate a response.

“I love you, too, Apollo.” 

A small smile formed on Enjolras’ face, and he fell asleep. 

*****  
He was in the hospital for another two days. On Wednesday (the day after his surgery), all of the Amis, including Gavroche and Eponine, came to visit him. Joly brought a carved pumpkin since he missed Halloween. They stayed until visiting hours closed, and even let Enjolras conduct a “meeting” to make up for the one they missed. Said “meeting” mostly consisted of them trying to sneak Enjolras candy when his nurses (including Combeferre and Joly) weren’t looking. Still, he was more than relieved when the doctor finally told him he could go home. 

Naturally, throughout all of this, Grantaire stayed by his side.

 

As for their relationship, well…  
That’s another story.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based entirely on my experiences with appendicitis when I was 12/13. Everything written here actually happened to me. Only it was a family friend who brought me Magic Mike and a pastor (from a church I don't go to) who brought the pumpkin. I mean EVERYTHING happened.


End file.
